An Ordinary Life
by Koinaka
Summary: Elijah Douglas wants nothing more than to be ordinary. Fate, however, has other plans. When he sets out to prove that the red-eyed man he dreams of is real, he discovers much more than that: he is the missing Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the wizarding world -
1. Prologue

A/N: Please don't kill me for starting yet another story! This plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone! I seem to have some obsession with Harry not growing up as he did in canon! Oh well, enjoy! I also don't know how regular the updates will be, but I will try! Also, I have no idea what pairing, if any, this will be. Feel free to give suggestions.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, really, save for a few characters. You'll know which are mine, I promise.

Summary: Elijah Douglas wants nothing more than to be ordinary. Fate, however, has other plans. When he sets out to prove that the red-eyed man he dreams of is real, he discovers much more than that: he is the missing Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the wizarding world - a world, that until now, he never knew existed. How will Elijah react when he is thrust into this strange new world?

An Ordinary Life 

By _Koinaka_

_Be not afraid of greatness:  
Some are born great,  
Some achieve greatness,  
And some have greatness thrust upon 'em_

Twelth Night, Act II, Sc. V

Prologue 

Fifteen year old Elijah Douglas awoke with a start. He fumbled around on his nightstand for his glasses and the journal he always kept next to his bed. Ignoring the blinding pain emanating from his forehead, he opened the journal and wrote as much as he could manage about the dream. Once that was finished, he ran his hands through his dark messy hair and fell back against his pillow, his breathing still harsh. He could still hear the cold laughter echoing through his head. It was always the same, night after night. The cold laughter, the man's mocking voice, the crimson eyes, the _anger_ he felt; always the same. Well, _nearly _always the same. Last night had been a bit different, but for the most part they were all the same.

When his breathing was finally under control, Elijah threw his legs over the side of his bed and, taking his sweat-soaked shirt off along the way, went into the bathroom to complete his morning absolutions. He wasn't surprised to see that the odd lightening-bolt shaped scar that marred his forehead was a livid red against his otherwise pale skin. It was inflamed more often than not now, to the surprise and befuddlement of nearly every doctor his father had sent him to - which was, if he was honest, nearly every doctor in New England. He reached up with one finger and gingerly touched it, wincing when the pain intensified. Well, nothing doing, he'd have to endure it. If he wanted to spend the rest of the day in bed, he could take a pain pill, but as he had classes, he could not. He did, however, take his other daily medicine, washing the pills down with water directly from the spout.

"Another nightmare?" asked his room-mate Bryce when he returned from the bathroom.

"Yeah," said Elijah, tiredly, as he began pulling on his uniform. "Sorry if I woke you," he added hastily, but Bryce had already fallen asleep again.

He gathered everything he would need for the day and, after cramming the items into his messenger bag, left the room.

It was still early, not yet six o'clock, and the building was eerily silent, much as it was most mornings. Elijah should have been used to it, as he had spent the majority of the previous year waking early, but it still unnerved him.

He smiled and politely greeted the receptionist when he reached the ground floor, ignoring the pitying look she gave him in return. Since the death of his mother the previous year, he had often received those pitying looks. He had a difficult time ignoring them at first, but managed to not care now - well, he amended, most of the time, that is. He went straight into the student commons and flung himself into his favorite chair. He put the headphones from his Walkman over his ears and pressed play, relishing in the absence of silence - and maniacal laughter - that followed. He then pulled out his sketch pad and his pencil, and, after turning to a blank page, began sketching his dream from the previous night. Before long, the man who plagued his sleeping - and sometimes waking - hours was staring back at him. The only thing missing was the intense crimson hue of the man's eyes, eyes that - even on paper, as it were - seemed to bore into him. Even this crude facsimile of the man was enough to send shivers down his spine.

He was in the process of beginning the intricate designs on the man's clothing when someone nudged him on the arm. He looked up to find his best, and indeed only, friend Andrew standing in front of him.

He slipped off his headphones as Andrew flopped into the chair next to him, yawning loudly.

"You're up early," Elijah commented as he turned his attentions back to his sketch.

Another yawn. "You, too. Have another nightmare?"

Elijah hesitated, but at Andrew's knowing look, he nodded.

"You should definitely tell your dad, Eli. Maybe they could up your meds or something. You _did_ take your meds last night, didn't you?" asked Andrew.

Elijah shot him an icy glare. "Of course I took my meds. Didn't bloody help though, did it? Never really does," he said, bitterly, a scowl forming on his face. "My dad can't help me, you know that, so there's no point in even telling him. I don't want him to worry more than necessary. Besides, he's gone ahead to London."

"Okay, okay," said Andrew, quickly, obviously attempting to backtrack. "No need to be so tetchy. Don't tell your dad if you don't want to. It was just a suggestion. He'll know soon enough anyway, with the way you scream and carry on, so there's no point in keepin' it from him, is there?"

Elijah sighed and absently rubbed his forehead. "No, you're right. I'll have to tell him," he replied softly. And he did know. Today was the last day of the school semester and tomorrow Elijah would be en route to England for the summer. He might be able to minimize and - at times - lie about the nightmares whilst away at school, but he'd never be able to hide them from his father over the summer, not when they would be living under the same roof. Well, at any rate, he might be able to keep the lectures at an absolute minimum if he told his father beforehand.

"Hey," said Andrew, at his friends pensive expression. "It could be _much _worse. Just think, an entire summer globe trotting across Europe. Must me nice."

"I suppose." Elijah replied reluctantly. "You do know that I won't _actually_ be globe trotting, right?" Unless, of course, by globe trotting Andrew meant spending copious amounts of times with his Great Auntie Elinor whom Elijah thought was more than a bit mad.

Andrew shrugged. "Doesn't matter. _Anything_ is better than spending the summer toiling around like a commoner," Andrew sniffed in an imitated affected manner.

"Of course not," said Elijah with a small chuckle. "Wouldn't want to be seen doing anything as plebeian as _working_."

"Let's go to breakfast, I'm starving!" said Andrew, changing the subject abruptly.

"You're _always_ starving," commented Elijah lightly, tapping his pencil against his sketch pad irritatedly. He had moved on to the man's snake, but he was having difficulty remembering the pattern on her scales. It was unique, he'd never seen another snake quite like that, and he'd seen a number of them as he was rather fascinated with them.

"Please! _Eli!_"

Andrew's stomach growled loudly as if to punctuate his pleadings. Elijah rolled his eyes, but he did close his sketch pad and stood up after shoving it back in his bag. He yawned loudly as he stretched, and then the two of them headed off towards the dining hall.

Sometimes Elijah forgot how different he was from his closest friend. The guilt of his comments settled in as they sat down to eat, Elijah choosing a full breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon, and orange juice and Andrew choosing only cereal. He really should have been more considerate earlier. He knew that Andrew was rather sensitive when it came to the general issue of money and summer activities in particular. Both boys attended the prestigious boarding school, Exeter Academy, but Andrew was there on scholarship. Andrew put up with a certain amount of ridicule because of it, but Elijah had never cared how much - or how little - money his friend had. While Andrew spent the summers doing odd jobs for his neighbors to earn pocket money, Elijah spent the summers with his parents in New Haven, Connecticut where his father worked as a professor.

This summer was different. It was the first summer since his mother had died of cancer, and it was also the first summer he was to spend the entirety of abroad. He hadn't spent more than two weeks in the UK since he and his parents had moved to Connecticut when he was eight years old. This year he was spending the entire summer in London with his Great Aunt Elinor while his father taught a series of classes at his old alma mater, Cambridge University.

"You're awfully quiet," Andrew said thoughtfully. "Nervous 'bout exams?"

"No, just thinking," he said, taking a long drink of his orange juice.

"Like you even need to worry," grumbled Andrew. "I bet you would pass all your exams even if you didn't study."

Elijah sighed. If Andrew was teased because of his lack of money, Elijah was teased because he was a bookworm. It was no wonder the two had become such fast friends. They had been outcasts from the moment they set foot into the school. Well, not quite so soon. Elijah had been a novelty at first with his accent and his odd slang, but before long he was just another outcast to the students there. Not that he minded, because he didn't. There was nothing Elijah loathed more than being in the spotlight. "I doubt that."

"So, what _were_ you thinking about?"

It was Elijah's turn to shrug. "Nothing, really," he lied easily.

Andrew gave him a warning glare.

"Fine," he said with a slight huff. "I had another dream," he confessed in a hushed tone, leaning closer to Andrew. He didn't want to tell Andrew what he really had been thinking about, and he _did_ want to talk about the dream to someone.

"Wha' 'bout?" asked his friend between mouthfuls of cereal.

"Just more of the same."

"Right," said Andrew sarcastically. "Just another bid for world domination? Nothing new about that."

"Something like that. Well, actually it _was _a bit different than usual," Elijah admitted.

"How so?"

"He was happy," said Elijah simply.

"Happy," repeated Andrew incredulously.

"Yeah," Elijah breathed out, excitedly. "He was really happy, but more than just happy... he was elated, blissful, even. Something he's been working on is _finally _within his grasp. He'll not stop until he has it! I wonder what it is." A thoughtful look appeared on his face.

Silence reigned for several long moments after Elijah finished speaking.

"Elijah," started Andrew, his voice a bit nervous. "It's just a _dream_. This man... this, what did you say his name was?" He paused. "Ohhh, yeah, Lord Voldemort. Anyway, it doesn't matter, he's not _real_. He's just a figment of your imagination."

Elijah recoiled as if slapped. "He is _real_," he insisted.

"No, he isn't," countered Andrew. "They are just _dreams_. I know you think they are real, but they aren't. How could he be a real person? _Magic isn't real!_"

"Yes, it is!" protested Elijah vehemently, his verdant eyes narrowing, his hands clenching the table tightly. His silverware was shaking slightly of his own accord, but neither boy took notice of it. Elijah leaped up from the bench, knocking over his tray in the process.

"Okay, okay," conceded Andrew, in a placating tone. "If you say they're more than dreams, then they are." But he didn't look _or_ sound a bit convinced. In fact, he sounded as if he was trying to calm a startled animal more than anything else. "Look, just sit down, alright?"

But Elijah was too angry to spend another moment in Andrew's presence. "No, I'd rather not," he said coolly. "I've suddenly lost my appetite." He righted his tray and stalked out of the dinning hall, ignoring the hushed whispers and the stares on his back.

Elijah didn't stop until he was out on the grounds. He slumped against a tree, not just any tree, but his favorite. It was a large tree with a thick gnarled trunk. He groaned loudly and dropped his head into his hands. He felt like he was going mad. He had blown up at his best friend, and for what? Over a man he'd only ever seen in his dream? And a world that may or may not even exist? A world full of magic? A world he felt _sure _was real.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he pulled the sketch pad out of his bag and flipped through it. The dreams had started when he was only eleven. At first, they had only left vague impressions. There was a stuttering man who wore a purple turban, and a high-pitched hissing voice that sent shivers down Elijah's spine. When he was twelve, his dreams had been about a red-haired girl who walked as if she was possessed and the large snake she commanded. Then, there was the moment when the dreams changed. He remembered the dream vividly. The red-haired girl was motionless on the ground and a handsome boy stood over her, his lips curled into a malicious smirk. The seizures had begun soon after that, though his doctors were reluctant to call them seizures at first. They diagnosed him with night terrors, but soon it became evident that they were _not_ night terrors as they began happening even during the day. Soon, however, a multitude of medicine helped repress the majority of the seizures, but the dreams never went away.

Back in his dorm room he had more than a dozen sketch pads filled to the brim with picture after picture of this dream world, and this dream man - Lord Voldemort. One of his many counselors had suggested that Elijah keep a journal to help him with his dreams, and he did, but sketching the scenes was _much _more therapeutic than merely writing about them.

He stayed under the tree until he heard the bell for the first class ring. Suppressing the urge to go back to his dorm and crawl into his bed, he rose slowly off the ground and hurried for class.

The rest of the day passed by in a whirlwind of exams, studying, and packing. He had made a point to ignore Andrew throughout their exams, but Andrew cornered him at dinner.

"I'm sorry," Andrew said, earnestly. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No," said Elijah, a bit curtly. "You shouldn't have. You _know_ these dreams aren't pleasant for me, but I really think they _are_ real, and this summer I'm going to prove it."

Andrew nodded. "Just promise to be careful, Eli. I can't explain it, but I have a bad feeling about this summer."

"What sort of bad feeling?" asked Elijah curiously.

Andrew shrugged. "I don't know. It feels like every thing's changing," he said. "And I don't think it's going to stop anytime soon." There was a sad look on his friend's face. "Just please promise me you'll attempt to be careful in London this summer."

"I promise," replied Elijah easily, not knowing just how difficult this promise would be to keep.


	2. Chapter 1

Wow -- it's been a really long time since I started this. I will try to do better about updating, but, for now, enjoy. Do you feel that this is happening at a too-fast pace? Let me know, if you do!

An Ordinary Life 

By _Koinaka_

Be not afraid of greatness:  
Some are born great,  
Some achieve greatness,  
And some have greatness thrust upon 'em

_Twelth Night, Act II, Sc. V_

Chapter One  
Return to Britain

It was raining even before Elijah's plane had landed at Heathrow Airport, but Elijah hadn't expected any different. He'd known it would be -- he already had his jacket handy and had said goodbye to the sun -- for the moment, of course.

His father was waiting for him outside of the baggage claim, a smile on his face. "You're looking well," he commented as he easily lifted Elijah's trunk from the conveyor belt.

"I feel well," replied Elijah. It was only a half-lie. Truth was, since landing in Britain, he felt an odd bit of pain in his head. Not a full headache, but a dull ache, rather, that seemed to come directly from the lightening-bolt scar on his forehead.

Elijah's father regarded him suspiciously for a long moment before sighing. "Come along, then. We wouldn't want to keep Auntie Elinor waiting. She's cooked a feast for you, all of your favorites. She's really looking forward to spending time with you this summer. You will try your best to behave, won't you?"

Elijah held back the sigh that threatened to escape. "I always do, don't I?"

His father gave him wry smile. "You do. You're a good boy, Eli. Always have been."

The rest of the ride to Auntie Elinor's house was silent. Elijah was thankful for that, at least. When his father parked the car in front of the house, Elijah could already hear his aunt's music blaring. Auntie Elinor had a penchant for disco music. Had he mentioned that Auntie Elinor was absolutely mad? She was. Thankfully he hadn't inherited the madness from her, though Elijah sometimes thought his father was a bit of a loon as well. Perhaps it skipped a generation.

Dinner went as expected. Auntie Elinor bombarded him with questions as per usual.

_Had he a girlfriend? _No

_Had he gotten to any trouble this past term_? No

_Was he going to remain this dull his entire life_? More than likely, _yes_. If he were lucky, that is.

Elijah escaped straight away after dinner. Luckily, Auntie Elinor tended to commander the telly every evening after dinner as she didn't like to miss her programmes if she could help it. His bedroom was on the third floor. Elijah always insisted on being in this room whenever he came to stay here. There was a really large window that overlooked... well, nothing but the flats across the street, really, but he loved it just the same. Elijah grabbed his sketchpad and dropped unceremoniously onto the window seat, but before he had even opened his sketch pad, he noticed something. Across the street, there was a group of oddly dressed people gathering in front of number eleven Grimmauld Place.

"What?" breathed out Elijah as he watched the people seemingly disappear in front of his very face. Sketching forgotten, he dropped his sketchpad on the floor in his hurry to get downstairs -- and out the door -- as quickly as possible.

However there was a bit of a hold up. Along with having a penchant for disco music, Auntie Elinor also happened to love cats, and she had about six of them altogether. Elijah nearly fell to his death on his way to the first landing when Bojangles skidded across the floor. Then, on the second landing, it was Miss Moffett who attached herself firmly to the back of his legs, her razor sharp claws digging painfully into his skin. Elijah let out a yelp which frightened the cat off and allowed him to continue on his way. By the time he reached the ground floor -- and the front stoop -- there was nothing to be seen at all outside. He heaved a miserable sigh and lowered himself to the ground, pulling his knees to his chest and resting his head atop them. He watched the steady downfall of the rain until the moon was high in the sky. It was moments like this, that he felt his mum's loss the most.

Elizabeth Douglas, known to her friends as Eliza, always knew exactly what to say to make Elijah feel better. She knew him better than anyone else, better than he knew himself, he thought sometimes. If she were here, she would come outside, two steaming cups of hot cocoa topped with melting marshmallows on the top, just the way he liked it, she would sit here and listen to his ramblings, for hours if need be -- and she would believe him, no matter _what_ she said. She always had -- even when his father thought that his dreams were _just _that -- dreams. His mum never had. Elijah could tell that she believed him, truly believed him. It was written in her eyes -- they shared the same vivid green eyes, though Elijah's hair was black and messy unlike his mother's auburn locks.

How was he going to spend an entire summer in this dratty old house with only his Auntie Elinor for company without going mad himself? His dad would be around some, but precious little, he knew. He almost wished he was back at school. At least there, he had Andrew. Here, he was alone. Well, for the most part, of course. Perhaps, though, this was for the best. Tomorrow, he would begin the search for this hidden world. He was determined to find it.

The moment he entered the house, the oddly dressed people began to reappear in front of number eleven Grimmauld Place. One man, a Mr. R.J. Lupin whipped his head around at the place where Elijah had sat only moments before, his nose flaring slightly. Muttering to himself, Remus Lupin shook his head, before beginning the brisk walk to Kings Cross Station.

Elijah settled into bed moments later, never knowing how close he had come to discovering his destiny.

Sometime later, a shrill scream pierced the air of number four Grimmauld Place waking Benjamin Douglas out of a sound sleep. He knew at once that the scream came from Elijah's room. His heart in his throat, Benjamin quickly climbed the one set of stairs separating the second floor from the third floor and threw the door to Elijah's room open. Just as he expected, Elijah was in the throes of another of his... well, there wasn't a word for them, really, but Elijah always called them his fits. This one seemed to be worse than any of the others if Elijah's arching back and the shrill screams that continued to fall out of his mouth were any indication. But, there was always the chance that Elijah hadn't been quite honest with him about their progression whilst he was away at school. That would be like Elijah, he always had been selfless to a fault, never wanting Benjamin to worry. Not that that had stopped him -- it hadn't.

Carefully, Benjamin lowered himself down on the bed beside his son and pulled the now quiet boy into his arms. Just as had happened countless times before, Elijah didn't seem to be conscious. Now that it was over, his breathing slowly returned to normal and the only evidence that anything had happened at all was the twitching muscles in Elijah's hands and the trace of blood on the scar that marred his forehead. Benjamin had never felt so helpless in his entire life. Well, perhaps he had the previous year, in Eliza's last days, when the only way to manage her pain was to keep her sedated entirely. Benjamin sighed as he ran his fingers through his son's messy locks. Elijah was his son, in every way that counted -- except blood, that is. He, reluctantly, let Elijah's room and went to the bathroom to retrieve a wet cloth. He wiped the blood off of Elijah's forehead before placing a soft kiss on the lightening bolt scar. He looked so much like his mother sometimes.

Elijah sighed in his sleep and flopped over onto his stomach, hugging the pillow tightly underneath him. Benjamin watched for several more minutes before making himself comfortable in the chair next to Elijah's bed, making a note to phone his new doctor in the morning for a closer appointment. He would do whatever it took to ensure that Elijah would recover and enjoy a long and happy life. He had promised Eliza on her deathbed that he would take care of him always, and he didn't take that sort of promise lightly.

Elijah woke with a start the next morning, much as he did every morning. He was surprised to find his dad sleeping in the chair next to him. When Elijah made to get out of bed, his father's eyes opened.

"You lied to me," his dad said, quietly.

Elijah shook his head. "Not exactly. I just -- I didn't want to worry you."

Benjamin sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his weary face. "I'm your father, Elijah. It's my job to worry about you. Have they been this bad all year long?"

Elijah chewed on his lower lip. He nodded a bit reluctantly. "Yeah, pretty much," he said, finally.

Another sigh. "You should have told me. I could have changed the dosage on your medication."

Elijah averted his eyes, fixating instead on a very interesting piece of lint on the bedspread. "That wouldn't work. The medicine doesn't work -- it never has, Dad," he said with a sigh.

Benjamin dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath. "Elijah, I'm not... as good as your mother was, with this sort of thing, but you can talk to me. About anything."

"No, dad, you're fine -- it's _fine_," Elijah said, earnestly. "I know that I can talk to you. I do."

"Good," He groaned and stretched as he stood. "I think some breakfast is in order, then. What do you say?"

Elijah nodded. "Yeah, breakfast sounds good."

"Come down after you've showered. I'll see if Auntie Elinor will make you some of those chocolate chip pancakes you like so much. I'm rubbish at cooking." His father ruffled Elijah's already unkempt hair before leaving the room.

-- OoO -- OoO -- OoO--

Because it ended up raining steadily for the next several days, Elijah had to postpone his search. Not only that, but his father was keeping an awfully close eye on him. As a result, Elijah, for the most part, stayed indoors. More often than not, now that he was in Britain, his scar ached, and sometimes he felt an echo of emotions that did not belong to him. The dreams were more or less the same, really. The only difference was that sometimes, after waking from a dream, his hand would shake for minutes afterward.

His new doctor -- Elijah didn't even bother to attempt to remember the man's name -- had seen fit to order up a whole slew of tests. He thought, like most doctors did when Elijah first went to them -- quite _wrongly _-- that Elijah suffered from epilepsy though none of the tests gave any indication that this was the case.

Andrew had been right about one thing, though. With his father under the same roof with him, there were no minimizing the nightmares. In fact, every single night since arriving, Elijah woke to find his father asleep in the chair next to his bed. Stuck inside, as he was, Elijah spent most of his time sketching in his bedroom or reading on the window seat. Sometimes he would sit there for hours, waiting for the oddly dressed people to return -- they never did, that he saw anyway. Until, that is, Elijah had been there for a week to the day.

This time, there was only a man with his large black dog -- a large black dog that he called, in an exasperated tone, "_Padfoot_." It was the name, Padfoot, that had Elijajh reeling. Before dying, his mum had been sick for a long time and had, in her last days, been incoherent often. Among her mutterings, she mentioned a "_Padfoot_" along with a someone called "_Moony_". Although, Elijah supposed, this could mean very little. After all, she had sometimes referred to Elijah as James or even -- once or twice -- as Harry in those last days of life, despite the fact that Elijah didn't even _know_ of a Harry -- or a James, for that matter.

Elijah wasn't sure, in the end, what possessed him to leave his front stoop and make his way towards the the man and the dog. It was a split-second decision, really, and it happened so quickly, he hadn't time to think on it. One moment he was sitting, crouched down on the front stoop, listening to a bark that he thought, absently, sounded quite joyful, and a quiet voice that reprimanded said barking animal, and the next he was off the porch and approaching the two.

Elijah had reached the end of their driveway when the man's head whipped around and a low growl began to emanate from the dog. For several long moments, it was as if time stood still. Elijah felt uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny he found himself under, and, just as Elijah was about to head back to the comfort in his room, the dog gave a small shudder and, right in front of his very eyes, morphed into a dark-haired man.

The man stared wide-eyed at Elijah. "_Harry_," he breathed out.

It was this Elijah fixated on and not the fact that he had watched a _dog _turn into a _man_, and he found himself dumbly saying, before turning tail and fleeing to his house, "I'm not _Harry_."


	3. Chapter 2

Not too terribly long. Sorry about that, but still... a chapter is a chapter. Do you like the interaction with Sirius and Elijah/ Elijah and Ben?

An Ordinary Life 

By _Koinaka_

Be not afraid of greatness:  
Some are born great,  
Some achieve greatness,  
And some have greatness thrust upon 'em

_Twelth Night, Act II, Sc. V_

Chapter Two  
Imagination come to life

He'd run all the way up to his bedroom upon entering the house, hoping the strange men would still be outside so he could watch them from his bedroom window. They were not. He sighed heavily and threw himself down on the window cushion. Strange was an understatement. He had just watched a _dog_ become a _man_. A dog _became _a man. It was like... _magic. _Harry felt a chill go down his spine. Magic.. the very thing that he hoped to prove existed this summer. Could he have just unknowingly -- and _accidentally _-- observed someone else practice magic? This.. Padfoot? Whose face -- both human and non-human -- were so familiar to him.

There was a memory niggling at the back of his mind. In it, there was a small dark-haired child sitting in the lap of someone with familiar auburn hair -- his mother, he knew that much. There was another dark haired man who looked very much like Elijah or how Elijah expected he'd look when he was an adult. They were not alone though. Because, much to the young child's asolute delight, a black dog came bounding into the room. Over the child's shriek of laughter, Elijah could recall one word: _Pa'foo_.

It was a memory, he was sure of it, but whose memory? It couldn't be _his_. Not with that other man there...so it surely wasn't his memory. Only how could it _not_ be? He was still in the same position half an hour later when his father entered the room.

"Everything alright, yeah?" he asked.

Elijah gave a swift nod in conformation. "Everything's brilliant," he replied.

His dad, however, did not look convinced. "Elijah," he said, a warning tone in his voice.

Elijah huffed softly. "I'm _fine_, Dad, but... I _was _wondering something. Did we ever have a dog named Padfoot?"

His dad's brow furrowed. "A dog? Not that I'm aware of, but I think you may have had an imaginary friend called Padfoot. Suppose he _could _have been a dog. Hard to say though. You were always making up one friend or another. Terribly active imagination you had."

He sighed, frowning. "I don't remember."

"'Course you don't, Eli. You were just a kid, then." His dad gave him a warm smile and ruffled his hair. "Awfully cute little thing, you were, too. Still are, if you ask me."

Elijah groaned. "_Dad_, stop messing up my hair."

His father grinned, then. "Sorry, but it's not as if you can't even tell the difference anyway!"

Elijah's scowl became more pronounced. "Your hair is always in perfect order. Why does mine have to look like a bird's nest?"

His dad's grin turned nearly impish. "Could be you just took after your mum that way. Come on, how about we go to the cinema, yeah? Your Auntie Elinor's out with the girls tonight. We can make a night of it."

"Alright," said Elijah, but now it was his brow that was furrowed. "Mum's hair was terribly straight. I can't have gotten it from her."

His father's eyes tightened slightly. "It was," he admitted almost reluctantly.

Elijah shrugged. "I'm just odd that way, I suppose. I mean, I don't really look like either of you. Except for my eyes, that is. Those are mum's for sure. So, what film should we see?"

Elijah watched as his father visibly relaxed. "How about Mel Gibson in a kilt?"

"_No way_," Elijah said, scrunching up his nose. "Besides, that won't be out here for months."

"Well," said the man, thoughtfully. "We could get some Indian takeaway... and... play around with Auntie Elinor's laser disc player. What do you say about that?"

"Brilliant," breathed Elijah, his verdant eyes shining brightly. "How'd Auntie Elinor get a laser disc player, anyway?"

Now his father shrugged. "Don't know, but I _do _know that if we start right away we _might _be able to watch Death Star explode before bedtime."

Several hours later found the Douglas men waist deep in take-away boxes, candy wrappers, and fizzy drink containers, critiquing their favorite films lovingly.

"It's the ultimate betrayal!" insisted Elijah, rather emphatically. "All of his life, Luke thought one person when his father when really his father was his enemy! Not only that, but his Uncle Owen kept it from him his entire life. That's a terrible thing to do."

His father had gone quiet and unnaturally still.

"You alright?" asked Elijah, watching his father closely.

"Yes, of course... too much sugar, I think. How about I put on some tea, and we take a short break before the Jedi's return?"

His father was out of the room before Elijah had a chance to respond. Worried, Elijah followed him. His dad had acted like this once before -- right before he and his mum had told him that she was sick. He was facing the stove, but Elijah could see his shoulders moving as if he were crying. Elijah's heart clenched. His dad hadn't cried since his mum's funeral. Elijah wasn't sure he could bear to see his father cry.

"Dad?" asked Elijah, his voice hesitant. "Are you... you aren't ill, are you?"

There was a pause. "No, Eli, I'm not ill, but perhaps you should sit down."

Nervously, his breath caught in his throat, he did so. Sure enough, when his father turned around, there were tears gathered in his eyes. "I always knew this day would come. Your mum wanted to tell you a thousand times, but I was... afraid that you would think less of me, if you knew the truth," he said, letting out a shuddering sigh and beginning again. "The first time I ever saw your mum, I knew that she was it for me -- the only person I had ever loved, the only person I _would_ ever love."

Elijah nodded, not really understanding what his father was trying to say at all, but afraid to interrupt for fear he would decide to keep silent.

"And then there was you. You were so quiet, so... _haunted_... not like a little boy of three ought to be. I made it my mission in life to see you smile, to hear your soft little giggle..." His father drifted off, lost in some memory.

"A little boy of three?" murmured Elijah, his eyes widening, realization coming, slowly but surely.

"Yes, three. What I'm trying to tell you, Elijah,is that you _are _my son in every way that counts -- even if I never laid eyes on you until you were three years old," Benjamin said, fiercely.

"What?" breathed Elijah, a horrified look on his face. "_No_. You are my dad."

This was met with silence.

"Aren't you? You _have_ to be," Elijah said, shakily. "If you aren't, then who is?"

"Your mother never spoke of him. I know that he died when you were just a baby, but beyond that..." he sighed. "I'm so sorry, Elijah. So terribly sorry, you can't know how wretched I feel..."

But Elijah was gone. A moment later there was the resounding sound of the front door slamming.

Once outside, Elijah dropped onto the front stoop. As he always did when he was feeling poorly, he pulled his legs up to his chin, trying to make himself as small as possible. He wiped angrily at the tears that were now falling down his cheeks. His father wasn't his father. What did that even mean? And why had his dad chosen _now_ of all times to tell him? Was it because of what he'd said about Luke Skywalker? He dismissed that idea at once -- it was far too absurd. His father was nothing if not logical -- and he was nothing if not his father. Elijah knew that, at once. That at least hadn't changed. But he did wonder why his dad had never told him, or better yet, why his mum had never told him. Had she thought he wouldn't be able to handle it? He liked to think he would have been intelligent enough to consider all of the facts before jumping to conclusions, or had she simply not wanted him to know?

He waited for several minutes, half expecting his father to follow him outside, but he never came. Feeling drained, Elijah stood and made his way off of the front stoop. It was growing late now, nearly eleven p.m, and the moon was full overhead. He wandered over to where the dog had turned into a man. He was almost certain he had seen another house here, in between number 11 and number 13 -- where _was_ number 12 at anyhow? -- but now there was nothing. Sighing, Elijah turned to leave. Before he could, however, someone called out to him.

"Wait!" he cried.

Surprised, he turned around. Coming from where he was sure there _had_ to be a house was the dark-haired man from before. He wasn't sure why he stayed, but he did. The man seemed almost as surprised as he was. They stood staring at one another for another long minute. Elijah knew he ought not to stay, but there was just something so _familiar_ about this man, so -- comforting -- about him, that he did.

The man gave Elijah a small grin. "I didn't think you would come back, or stay when I asked, so I don't really have a plan here," he said by way of explanation. "Want to sit down?" he asked, motioning towards a nearby bench. Against his better judgement, Elijah sat.

"I live right over there," replied Elijah, pointing in the direction of his house.

The man nodded, but said nothing. He seemed to be drinking in Elijah's appearance -- almost greedily.

"You're a dog," Elijah stated matter-of-factly.

"I am," confirmed the man.

"You _were_ a dog," repeated Elijah. "But then you turned into a man."

"I did do that, yeah," said the man.

Elijah peered at him shrewdly. "How did you do it? Is it... magic? " he asked.

"A sort of magic, yes," the man replied carefully."Do you believe in magic?"

Elijah gave him an incredulous look, but he didn't bother to answer the question. It wasn't that he didn't believe in magic -- obviously he _did_, but he knew enough about his dreams not to tell anyone about them. They never believed him anyway. "I'm not Harry. My name is Elijah," he told him in that same matter-of-fact voice.

"Alright," said the other, lightly.

They were interrupted by a long howl that sounded very near to them. Elijah's head whipped around. "Did you hear that? It sounded like a wolf, but what's a wolf doing in London?"

"Sometimes," the man said, slowly. "Things aren't always what they appear to be. I'm a dog, yes, but I'm also a man."

"Yeah," agreed Elijah, bitterly, thinking of his dad. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "Earlier, that man... he called you Padfoot."

The man nodded. "Yes, he did."

"Is that your name, then?" Elijah asked, watching the man closely.

"Among other things, but yes, I am called Padfoot often. My real name is Sirius."

"My dad says that I used to have an imaginary friend named Padfoot," Elijah stated.

He watched, curiously, as the man's expression turned pained. "Suppose that's just a coincidence," Elijah said. "There's bound to be loads of people called Padfoot." Elijah was attempting to convince himself. It wasn't working.

"Sure -- sure there is," said the man, at last.

Elijah narrowed his eyes. As far as men who turned into dogs -- and the other way round -- went, this man -- Padfoot was really odd. Not to mention, his eyes had never left Elijah's face.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked him.

Sirius paused. He seemed to be contemplating something for a long moment. "You look very much like a dear friend of mine," he replied. "He's been dead a long while. It just took me by surprise that's all. I'm sorry," he said, sincerely. "I didn't mean to make you comfortable."

That was the truth, Elijah could tell, but that wasn't _all_ of the truth. He could tell that, too. He spent enough time telling half-truths to know, after all.

"There's something else that you're not telling me. What is it?"

There was another pause. "He had a son. You look terribly similar to him, or to what I imagine he would look like. I haven't seen him since he was a baby. He... went missing in the same accident that killed my friend."

The two sat in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before Elijah stood up. "I should go," he said. "My dad's probably worried about me. It's pretty late."

"Sure," replied Sirius. He hesitated for a minute. "There's a play park down the way. Do you think we could meet again there in a few days? Saturday maybe?"

Elijah chewed on his bottom lip. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe."

Sirius grinned suddenly. "Tell you what, I'll just hang around there for a while, and if you come, we can chat some more. If you don't, that's fine, too."

Elijah nodded. "Alright. Will you... do you think... could you bring a photo of your friend? The one you said I remind you of?"

The pained expression was back, but Sirius nodded all the same. "Sure... sure... I could do that."

Elijah studied Sirius's face one last time. "I _know_ you," he said, at last. "I think I do, at least. You look familiar to me. Why would you look familiar to me?"

He didn't wait for Sirius to answer him, turning instead, and heading back to the house.

His father was waiting for him when he came, sheepishly, into the kitchen.

"I'm still angry with you," Elijah told him, quietly, sitting down across from him. "I don't like being lied to."

"I know," his father said at once. "I'm sorry," he apologized once more.

Elijah nodded. This was far from settled, he knew, but there was no sense rehashing it again now. It _was_ late, after all. "Come on, then. We should finish what we started, yeah? It's time for the Jedi's to return."

Benjamin grinned, though it looked more sad than happy. "Finish what we started, we must."

Elijah groaned, covering his face with his hands. "_Dad! _You are such a dork!"

"The power of the force is strong with you," continued Benjamin as he followed Elijah back into the living room.

"_Ugh!"_


	4. Chapter 3

Whew, it's been a long while. You are rewarded for your patience with an enormous chapter. Enjoy!

An Ordinary Life 

By _Koinaka_

Be not afraid of greatness:  
Some are born great,  
Some achieve greatness,  
And some have greatness thrust upon 'em

_Twelth Night, Act II, Sc. V_

Chapter Three  
The truth will out

By the time Saturday arrived, Elijah was a bundle of nerves. Things with his father were... well, decidedly _not_ normal, but still a great deal better than they had been before. He even managed to go several days without having an episode which, of course, made the one that occurred Friday night a bit surprising. Not that he was _surprised _that he'd had one, mind you, because he certainly knew enough to expect them several times a week, but after nearly a week without one, he had become a bit complacent.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay? You know Elinor's gone to Bristol for the weekend."

Elijah shook his head, smiling weakly at his father. "No, I'm fine. Really."

His father pursed his lips and gave him a knowing look. "Elijah..." he said in a warning tone.

He sighed. "Alright, I'm not fine, but what difference does it make? I'll have them whether you're here or not. Besides, you've work that needs to be done, I know you do."

Very reluctantly, Benjamin nodded, ruffling his hair as he went by. "Suppose you're right. How'd you get to be so clever, anyhow?"

Elijah scrunched up his nose. "_Dad_," he whined, sighing dramatically for effect. He paused. "Must have gotten it from Mum, I reckon, but I'm not -- so clever that is."

"You are," Benjamin stated, quite firmly. "I don't like leaving you alone. What if something were to happen?"

Elijah waved dismissively. "Nothing's going to happen."

"Even so," the man pressed. "You remember how to contact me, if something should happen?"

Elijah looked rather affronted. "Of _course_ I know, Dad. Call your mobile. Look, I'll be fine, Dad. Nothing's going to happen, and even if something _does_ -- which it _won't_ -- it's not like I'm alone, is it? We've neighbors on all sides."

Benjamin didn't look convinced in the least, but he sighed and nodded. "If you can't reach me, call your Auntie Elinor, if you can't reach _her, _call your Uncle David, though I'd rather that you only call him if it is an absolute emergency."

Elijah huffed, but then grinned at the mention of his Uncle David. David was Benjamin's kid brother, and he was only a handful of years older than Elijah himself. The two brothers didn't get along at all. They'd have a massive row when Elijah's mum passed away. Uncle David reckoned they ought to move back to the UK, but his dad hadn't budged. They hadn't spoken, as far as Elijah knew, since. It was a shame, really, as Uncle David was brilliant. He fancied himself a bit of a rock star, though Elijah thought that was a bit of a stretch as his band didn't play much except at their favorite neighborhood pub.

"Does he know we're here?" queried Elijah.

Benjamin's lips were set into a hard line. "No," he said, his voice strained. "And I'd rather he not just yet."

Elijah shrugged. "Alright," he said, easily.

An hour later found Elijah sitting quietly on the bench at the deserted play park, sketching quietly, his eyes never leaving the paper. A gasp followed by another sharp inhalation of breath alerted him to the presence of another. Elijah's head jerked up. Sure enough, Sirius and stood before him, but he was not alone. Another man, a _familiar_, other man was with him. Elijah tensed at once. It was the man he'd seen the other day, the one who'd called Sirius Padfoot when he was in his dog form.

"I thought you'd be alone," he said, eyeing the new man warily. His pencil still hovering above the paper.

Sirius ignored his question, dropping onto the bench beside him instead. "Are you alright? You like rather pale.""

Elijah shrugged. "I'm fine. Just had a rough night of it last night."

The other man had yet to say a word to him, but he was _staring_ hungrily at him like Sirius had done the first time. As if he thought Elijah might disappear in front of his very eyes should he avert his gaze.

"I'm Elijah," he said, sticking out his hand.

The man hesitated, but took his hand, reluctantly. "Remus Lupin."

"So... nightmares?" Sirius asked breaking the silence that had fallen over them.

"Something like that," he muttered softly, chewing on his bottom lip.

Another uncomfortable silence fell over the trio. Out of the corner of his eye, Elijah noticed Sirius gesturing at his friend.

Lupin cleared his throat. "You sketch?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Kinda."

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Kinda?"

"Well," Elijah began, darting a nervous glance between the two men. "I do, sketch, but not for myself. It's... well, it's for my therapist."

"Therapist?" questioned Sirius looking quite flummoxed.

Elijah continued on, not exactly certain that he _should_, but doing so anyway. "I do... get nightmares that is. Only, well, that's not the right word for it." He paused, momentarily so that he could study their reactions. Neither man seemed to think less of him so he started back, the words spilling out of him almost without his permission. "I've seen loads of doctors about them. _Loads_. My dad's a doctor -- well, he's a geneticist -- and so he knows all the best there is, but none of them can figure it out. My newest doctor, he's a right berk, he is. He thinks I've got epilepsy. _That's _a bunch of rubbish."

He took a deep breath, his cheeks were pink with excitement. How long had it been since he'd felt he could be completely honest with _anyone_? He was too afraid of worrying his dad, and his therapist didn't really _care_ what Elijah filled his journals with as long as he did. Plus, Sirius knew about magic. He could turn into an actually _dog_. It stood to reason that if _anyone_ would be able to understand his dreams, it'd be him.

"My doctor back at school -- Exeter Academy, that is -- he thought what I had was really night terrors, so he set me up with this therapist when the nightmares started getting worse. Journaling was his idea, sketching was mine. It's fun, I guess." He finished with a shrug.

Both men looked pale and a bit drawn when he was done. "Epilepsy is a rather serious illness," remarked Lupin.

Elijah's breath came out in a _whoosh_. He cast another glance in Lupin's direction. "Does he... _know_?" Elijah muttered."About...the dog thing?"

Sirius looked confused for the briefest second before letting loose a bark of laughter. "He knows, alright. Helped me learn, he did."

Elijah worried on his bottom lip for another moment. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked.

Here Lupin chuckled softly, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Better than you might think."

Elijah took a deep breath. "Alright, then. You see, I don't think it's epilepsy at _all_. It can't be. The medicine never works -- _never_. Even if it _were_ epilepsy -- which it _isn't_ -- that wouldn't explain the _other_."

Sirius's brow was furrowed. "The other?"

"And you swear you won't tell?"

Both men nodded.

"Or laugh?"

Again they nodded.

"I don't think they are dreams at all! Because sometimes, the oddest things happen. Like... I'll start to feel angry, really angry, but only if _he_'s angry. Then, sometimes, I get really happy just because he is. And I _know_ things are going to happen before they do."

Sirius tensed beside him. "_He_?" he asked, in a strangled voice at the same time Lupin asked, "What sort of things?"

Elijah was beginning to regret saying anything. More so every second. "The man, in my dreams, he -- well, he's not a very good guy. He does things, really _terrible_ things, in my dreams. I never thought anything about them, but since I've been in London, I've noticed they're actually happening. Like the other day, on the telly, I heard about this woman who'd vanished mysteriously -- _only she hadn't._ Vanished mysteriously, that is, because just the night before I'd seen him kill her."

Silence reigned for a mere second. "Does _he _have a name?" Lupin asked.

"Well, of course he has a name -- doesn't everyone? Only I think it's rather silly, you see, he fancies himself to be nobility. He calls himself Lord Voldemort. It's quite a laugh, really."

Several things happened then in rapid succession. Sirius grabbed him harshly by the arms and pulled him up, Lupin moved so that Elijah was behind the two of them.. Then both men whipped thin sticks -- _were those wands? -- _out and quickly surveyed the play park. They were still alone.

Fear was bubbling in Elijah's chest. He felt it begin to spread, his breath coming in gasps now. "_Let me go!_" he cried out, flailing about. "You're _mad_, you are."

But Sirius's grip didn't lessen one bit.

"You have to let me go -- now!" he said again, his voice high and shrill.

Lupin cleared his throat. "He's right, Sirius. Let him go. No one's here."

He didn't let him go completely though he did loosen his grip until he was just barely touching him. "_Harry_..." he breathed. "It's you."

Elijah scowled. "This again? I've told you. My name's Elijah -- not _Harry!_" With a rather forceful jerk, Elijah was able to free himself. He sprinted down the road, not even bothering to grab his sketchbook. He didn't stop until he was at his house. He shut the door and locked it. Then, he ran up to his room to look out the window. He didn't see anything, so he sank down onto his window chaise.

It was then he realized that he'd left his sketchbook. He groaned, but there was nothing doing. He'd just have to get another. As his breath evened out, he wondered what all of that had been about. Clearly Sirius and the other man, Lupin, were mental. Not that he should have been surprised. Normal people didn't turn into animals, did they? Elijah felt oddly uneasy. All he'd thought about for months _-- months_ -- was finding out if this man and the world he belonged to truly existed, and now he seemed to have proof that it did. Because it was quite obvious that Sirius and Lupin had known, at once, who Elijah referred to. He'd never seen such fear before.

But for every answer, new questions appeared. Why did Sirius keep referring to him as Harry when clearly his name was Elijah?

Elijah was so lost in thought, he never noticed that he was no longer alone. Indeed, both Sirius and Lupin were standing at the doorway of his bedroom.

The clearing of a throat alerted him to his visitors. His eyes widened as he saw them .

"What -- why -- _how_ did you get here?" Elijah sputtered.

"You've got to come with us," Sirius said, slowly advancing toward him.

Elijah scoffed. "You're _mad_. I'm not coming with you. I shouldn't have even been talking to you. You need to leave. Right now."

But they weren't leaving, in fact, Sirius was only moving closer.

"You need to leave," repeated Elijah. "I'll call the bobbies if you don't. Breaking and entering's a crime. So is kidnapping," he added.

"We don't want to hurt you," Lupin said. "But you're in danger -- grave danger -- Elijah. You _must_ come with us."

"Of course I'm in _danger_!" Elijah exclaimed. "I've a couple of lunatics in my bedroom. Look, if you leave... if you leave _now_... I won't tell anyone. I swear I won't."

Sirius smiled sadly at him. "I'm truly very sorry for this, Elijah. I hope one day you can forgive me. I just...I _have_ to keep you safe, and this is the only way I can do so."

Elijah's brow was furrowed in confusion, but not for long. Just a moment later, Sirius pulled out his wand, pointed it at the boy and murmured an odd word -- Latin, Elijah was sure of it. He wasn't able to think of it any longer because a heavy darkness pulled him under.

The first thing Elijah was aware of when he came to was a heated argument occurring right above him and an intense pain in his head.

"Do you have any idea what you've done? You've kidnapped a boy -- taken him against his will!" The voice was unrecognizable. Elijah parted his eyes -- only slightly as the light in the room was much too bright and caused his head to ache -- only to discover the voice belong to an old man.

"He is in danger, Albus! What else was I to do?" Another voice, Sirius, said.

"And he's not just _any_ boy, Albus. He's Harry, I tell you. Look at him. He's James remade in the flesh," Lupin said, continuing where Sirius had left off.

"Even if he says he's not," Sirius insisted. "How else do you explain that sketchbook, eh? It's an illustrated guide to Voldemort. He's got drawings of every major event in the last several years."

There was a pause followed by a heavy sigh. "I am afraid I've no explanation for the sketchbook. As far as the boy's identity goes, there are potions that can be brewed to determine it. I suggest you contact Severus and have him start one immediately. He does bare a striking resemblance to James, I must admit, but I do not want you to get your hopes up. Not only have you gone about this the entirely wrong manner, but there is no proof that Harry Potter survived the attack on Godric's Hollow."

"But there's no proof that he didn't either. They never found his body -- his or Lily's. Lily always was far too clever for her own good. Not only that, but she _knew_ the muggle world. She must have taken him and hidden him away there."

"That is _possible_," the man said at last. "But you must see reason. You never should have taken the boy. Surely he has family -- parents -- who will be concerned about his whereabouts --"

"He has family _here_," snarled Sirius. "I'm his family."

Elijah couldn't stand to hear another word of this madness. He wretched his eyes open fully and gasped. Whatever they had done to him -- drugged him perhaps? -- had seemed to trigger a migraine. His eyes fluttered close as he groaned. There was a scurry of movement and then a small glass bottle was pressed into his hand.

"Take this, it's for your head. It will help with the pain you are no doubt in," said the old man.

Elijah shook his head voraciously, opening his eyes wide and grimacing as pain lashed through his head at both the sudden movement and the light. "I'm not taking anything you. For all I know, it could be a poison. It probably is."

Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked around the room he was in, searching vainly for any clue as to his whereabouts. He sighed. He didn't recognize it a bit although he had expected that. It was an odd room, though. He knew from the layout he must be in one of the other walk-ups. It looked a bit like his only... _not_. Well, Elijah supposed, it looked like his might have looked a hundred or more years ago. It was filled with candles, for instance, instead of lamps, and it was rather warm, so he gathered central air was missing as well. How... odd. He narrowed his eyes at Sirius. He had trusted him, told him his secrets, and he had... well, what had he done? Abducted him and taken him to a strange house and insisted upon calling him _Harry_! He turned back to the older man. One further inspection, Elijah thought this man might just be the oldest man he'd ever seen. Well, he was certainly the only one of them with any sense.

"Where am I?" he asked him.

It was Sirius who answered. "In my house."

Elijah scowled. "I don't suppose you plan on letting me go, do you? You should know that my father expects me home soon. If I don't come back, he'll worry."

"We saw him leave earlier today with a suitcase. You know as well as we do that he's not expecting you home tonight," Lupin replied gently.

Elijah clenched his jaw. "Maybe not," he bit out. "But you can't keep me here against my will! I've got to get home."

"So you shall, my dear boy," said the old man, approaching Elijah cautiously. "So you shall, but first do you mind indulging an old man's curiosity?"

Elijah eyed him warily. "And you'll let me go, then, will you?"

"I shall endeavor to return you to your rightful home when the time comes, you have my word."

Elijah pursed his lips at the warning, but nodded jerkily. "Fine, ask your questions." He cast another nervous look in the direction of his abductors. The old man followed the look. He frowned and turned back to him.

"Sirius and Remus have an errand to run now, so why don't you and I have our chat while they are gone?"

Sirius scowled darkly, but did not complain when Lupin pulled him out of the room. Elijah let out a sigh of relief when they were gone and nodded at the man. "Alright, I'll talk."

"Splendid!" The old man cried. "Now, then, I do believe introductions are in order. I am Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Elijah's green eyes widened. "Witchcraft and wizardry?" he breathed. "It's true, then? Magic is real?" He'd known, of course, that it must have been real in some shape or form ever since he'd seen Sirius turn himself into a dog, but still, it was nice to have proof from what appeared to be a more credible source.

Albus Dumbledore did not respond -- verbally at least. He simply lifted his wand and flicked it. Elijah gasped as two delicate hummingbirds flew from its tip and flitted out of the open window. He, then, turned back to Elijah. "Yes, Elijah, magic is real. It resides within all witches and wizards."

"And there's a whole school dedicated to it? How do you apply?"

Dumbledore gave him an indulgent smile. "There are many schools dedicated to magic scattered throughout the world, but one need not apply to them in the same fashion as you would a secondary school. Magic is as naturally part of the world, yes, but not everyone is gifted with it. Just as not everyone in the world has blue eyes, for example. Do you understand?"

Elijah nodded. "I _think_ I do. You're saying that magic is a part of your genetic make-up, then? Something you are born with?"

"Quite so. Now, following that same strain, it does tend to stay within families, much like other hereditary features. It would stand to reason, then, that the child of two magical parents would be magical and the child of two non-magical people -- we call them muggles in our world -- would be non-magical. However, just as in nature, there are exceptions to both rules. Sometimes, very rarely, the child of two magical people will be born without magic, we call the product of such a birth a squib. Another possibility -- not quite as rare as a squib is what we call a muggle-born this is when the child of two non-magical parents is born with magic. Despite their lineage, all magical children attend a magical school -- should they so choose, of course -- when they reach their eleventh year of life. There they are taught how to harness and use their magic along with many other fascinating subjects."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry, sir, but I don't see what any of this has to do with me. I've no magic. I'm fifteen, nearly sixteen now. If I was magical, wouldn't I have been admitted to your school years ago?" Elijah inquired.

"Well, that is the question, now, isn't it? It's a bit of a mystery. You see, at Hogwarts there is this book. It records the birth of every magical child. While I do admit that there is no record of an Elijah Douglas, there _is_ a record of a Harry Potter."

Elijah gave him an incredulous look. "I'm not Harry Potter! How many times must I go through this!"

Dumbledore gave him a very pointed look then. "Perhaps you are not, and if it is proven that you are not, in fact, Harry Potter, I will offer you my sincerest apologies for putting your through what must no doubt be a very traumatic day. Whoever you may be, Elijah Douglas or Harry Potter, I've no doubt that you _are_ magical. Just answer me one question, Elijah. Have you ever made anything happen when you were frightened or angry?"

Elijah sighed, a frown forming on his face. "Not really, but when I was little I used to imagine that I could understand what my snake said -- and that I could talk to him. We had the most lovely conversations."

Dumbledore sucked in a harsh breath. Elijah quickly continued. "But that was just make believe. People can't really talk to snakes, can they?"

"Ordinary people, no, but you aren't an ordinary boy, Elijah -- you're a wizard."

Elijah's eyes widened. "Am I really?"

Dumbledore nodded just as the door to the room opened. Three people quickly made their way into the room. Sirius, Lupin, and a third harsh looking man. His dark eyes flicked over to Elijah, widening almost comically before settling on the old man, a sneer on his thin lips.

"You wished to see me, Headmaster?" he queried.

"Ah, yes, Severus. I wish for you to brew -- for young Mister Douglas here -- a heritage potion."

"A heritage potion?" repeated the man. At Dumbledore's nod, he shrugged. "As you wish, but it will take several days."

"Of course, thank you, Severus. I shall speak with you further when I return to the castle this evening."

The man nodded stiffly and spun around, recognizing the Headmaster's words as the dismissal they were.

"Several days?" said Elijah when he was gone. "But you said that I could leave if I answered your questions!"

"And so you shall," the Headmaster stated. "As soon as the potion has been brewed and your identity revealed, you will be free to return to your home."

"But I can't stay here!" he exclaimed. "I don't know why you lot won't listen to me -- I'm not Harry Potter!"

Sirius moved forward then and thrust a photograph at Elijah. "This is the picture I told you I'd show you today," he said, gruffly.

Scowling, Elijah took the photograph. It wasn't an ordinary photograph. It was like holding a movie in the palm of his hands. Only it was silent and in black and white. Elijah gasped as he took a closer look at the photo. Black and white it may be, but he recognized the woman captured within. It was his mum. He said so, too, in an astonished voice.

"That's Lily and James Potter," Lupin told him.

Elijah shook his head. "Her name's not Lily, it's Eliza."

Sirius handed him another photograph. In addition to the two -- one familiar, one unfamiliar -- people, there was a third. A small boy who looked remarkably like he had at that age.

"This is Lily and James with Harry, their son."

A memory came to him then, hitting him full force. "My mum was ill," he said. "She had cancer. Before she died, they had her on all sorts of drugs. She didn't know who I was half the time, the other half of the time, she said things that didn't make any sense." He paused and took a deep breath. "She hallucinated quite a bit. She had these strange conversations with imaginary people. She called me the wrong names, either..." and here Elijah paused again. He was quite reluctant to reveal this part. "She called me Harry sometimes. She even called me James a few times."

A silence fell over the room as Elijah continued to stare at the photograph. "That's _me_, isn't it? I am Harry Potter, aren't I?"


	5. Chapter 4

This is a very short chapter, but it felt right to stop there.

An Ordinary Life 

By _Koinaka_

Be not afraid of greatness:  
Some are born great,  
Some achieve greatness,  
And some have greatness thrust upon 'em

_Twelth Night, Act II, Sc. V_

Chapter Four  
The Best of Intentions

Elijah's exclamation was met with silence. He ran his hand through his hair in some vain attempt to straighten it. His eyes swept over the room once more. It was like looking at a history book. There wasn't even electricity, for crying out loud! The room was lit by candles and some sort of gas light. "Alright," he said, letting his breath come out in a _whoosh_. "Well, that's that, then. I mean, I knew my dad wasn't my real dad, so that's not a big shock or anything." He neglected to mention, of course, that he'd only known for a week. "And I _was_ hoping to see if I could... investigate Lord Voldemort this summer. You know, see if he's real and all that. But can't I leave now? I mean, I admit I must be that boy in the photograph because that's my mum and well, I looked an awful lot like that when I was little, so there's no reason to wait for the potion."

"Elijah," began the Headmaster. "While I do not condone the manner in which you were brought here, I must impress upon you the danger you are in --"

Elijah cut him off. "Danger? I'm not in any danger -- unless you count being kidnapped by this lot here?" he said, motioning towards Sirius and Remus. "You can't just keep me here forever! My dad might not be home now, but he will be in a few days. He'll go spare if I'm not there. He'll probably go spare if I'm not there when he phones to check on me. And he will, you know. Check on me, that is."

Dumbledore gave him a small smile. "We don't mean to keep you forever, Elijah, but I cannot, in good conscience, allow _any_ fifteen year old boy to remain unattended, especially one in as much danger as you happen to be in. As I've said, as soon as the potion is brewed and your father returned, you will be free to leave. In the meantime, Sirius has a wonderful library. Might I suggest you take this time as an opportunity to begin exploring magic. You are starting a bit late, but I'm sure you are a clever young man and will have no problem in learning. Then, we can discuss your future with your father."

Elijah's brow furrowed in confusion. "My future? I don't understand... What business of yours is it what I do in the future? I'm only in London for the summer. I attend boarding school in the States."

"But I only just found you -- you can't leave!" Sirius interjected, horrified.

Dumbledore silenced Sirius with only a look. "If that is your decision, then we shall respect it, of course, but don't you owe it to yourself to think this through and explore all of your options? Magic _is_ a part of who you are."

Elijah chewed on his bottom lip. Wasn't this what he had been hoping for? To discover if magic was real? To find out why he was having these dreams -- if they were dreams, and he didn't think they truly were? Now, he was being given an opportunity to do so. If he'd never met Sirius, how long would it have taken him to discover this? _Would_ he have discovered it? He couldn't be sure he would have, and if he left now, there was no guarantee he'd be able to find anything on his own. Finally, he gave Dumbledore a jerky nod before sighing. "Just until my father is back?" He asked once more.

"Just until your father is back," Dumbledore confirmed.

"Alright. It's not as if I've a choice, do I?" Elijah replied, softly.

Sirius grimaced at his tone. "I am sorry, you know, about...er.. kidnapping you and all -- really, I am. It's just... well, your mum and dad were my very best friends -- nearly my only friends save ol' Remus there. I've spent the last fourteen years thinking I'd lost you all, damn near killed me at times, but now... you're here. Alive. I can't just let you walk away when I've just gotten you back. I _have _to protect you. I just.. I have to. You understand, don't you?"

Elijah could tell that Sirius was being sincere, really he could, but it didn't make sense. None of it made any sense! "Not really, no. I mean, you all keep saying that I'm in danger and that I must be protected, but -- _why_? From what? I'm just a kid. Why would anyone want to hurt me?"

The three men exchanged a look. Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "The man in your book, Lord Voldemort, is indeed real, as we've said. I need not tell you that he is a dangerous man. You've seen this for yourself, have you not? If your sketches are any indication, you have a much more in-depth knowledge of the man than anyone in this room, myself included."

Elijah nodded. "Yeah, he's... there's no word for it, really. He's completely mad, but also completely brilliant. Some of the things he can do -- that I've _seen_ him do -- shouldn't be possible, but he does them."

A dark look passed over Dumbledore's face. "Quite so. Brilliant though he may be, Voldemort is a dangerous man. Now, his history is much too intricate to explain in whole at the moment, but I think the shortened version will do nicely. Would that be acceptable to you?"

"Alright," Elijah said.

Dumbledore gave him a speculative gaze and then began to speak.

When he was finished, Elijah let out a shaky breath. "And you think that he's after me now?"

"Yes, or he will be, as soon as he discovers that you are alive, and make no mistake about it -- he will know," replied Dumbledore, gravely. "He mustn't ever find you."

A shudder went through Elijah. It was just too much. It was all too much. Sirius seemed to sense that, so he came and sat on the edge of the bed.

"That's why you _have_ to stay here," he said. "I have to protect you. It's my duty as your godfather. I can't lose you, Elijah. I won't."

"It's not that I don't appreciate what you're trying to do for me," Elijah started. "Because I do, but... the thing is, I don't know you. Any of you. You say you're my godfather, but to me, you're just a stranger." He paused, ignoring the hurt look that flitted across Sirius's face as his head gave a rather painful throb. "I'm not feeling well. Could I just... is it possible for me to just be alone for a while?"

Sirius opened his mouth to say protest, but Lupin put a hand on his shoulder, causing the man's mouth to fall close almost immediately.

"Of course," Lupin answered, giving Elijah a soft smile. "Do take the potion, however, if your pain continues. I assure you that it is not poisoned."

Elijah gave a jerky nod. "I'll think about it," he said, his voice sounding as if it were coming from a great distance.

The men left without further ado, and Elijah breathed a sigh of relief. He studied the liquid in the vial for several minutes. It was iridescent in color and smelled strangely of lavender. How odd for a medicine. He took a small drink of it, nearly spitting it out immediately. Never before had he tasted something so foul! Before he could think of the taste further, he noticed that the almost constant pain in his head was abating. With only a bit of reluctance -- he shuddered at the memory of the taste -- he drank the rest in one fell swoop. No sooner had the last drop been swallowed than he noticed the pain in his head was gone -- as if it had never been in the first place. His chest tightened as he thought of the benefits of this potion. All throughout the world, there were people in immense pain! His mum, for one, had been nearly coherent with pain in her last days. Even when she'd been kept completely sedated, Elijah could tell she'd still been in pain.

He'd scarcely had a moment to acclimate himself to his new pain free state before there was a knock at the door. Elijah frowned. He'd only just gotten the men to leave and already they were back. Perhaps he could just feign sleep, and they would go away.

Unfortunately, the knocker chose not to waiting, entering the room after one more brisk knock. However, Elijah was relieved to discover it wasn't Sirius and the others. It was the severe looking man from before -- the very same man who'd brought him the potion. Elijah's head was suddenly filled to the brim with a plethora of questions. If the potion could get rid of his headache, what _else_ could it get rid of? Could it cure cancer? The common cold? The possibilities seemed endless!

"I require a sample of your blood," the man stated, tersely, without preamble.

Elijah studied the man. "For the potion?" he asked.

The man's lip curled into a sneer. "Yes, _Potter_, for the potion."

"Alright," Elijah said, agreeably. He was used to having blood drawn, at any rate. He held his hand out. "But I'm not a Potter now -- even if I was before. My mum remarried when I was little."

The man -- had Dumbledore called him Severus? -- flinched but said nothing. He withdrew a long, slender stick -- his wand, Elijah realized -- and a small vial. He pressed the wand against the tip of Elijah's index finger, and after an incantation in Latin, Elijah watched in stunned amazement as the vial filled with blood. Once it was filled, the man turned on his heels and was at the door within seconds.

"_Wait!_" Elijah exclaimed.

Snape stopped, his back tense and straight.

"I just wondered if you would allow me to ask you several questions -- about potions?"

Warily, the man turned back towards Elijah and inclined his head in his direction. "You may," he said, finally, with great reluctance.

Elijah paused, chewing on his bottom lip. "The potion you gave me before got rid of my headache, and now it feels like I never even _had_ a headache in the first place. Could it be -- are there potions like that to cure diseases? Even those thought incurable?"

"Some diseases, yes," replied Snape, carefully. "Are you inquiring after a specific disease?"

Another pause. "Are there those that cure cancer?"

"There are many that are able to cure cancer, provided it is caught early enough. Once metastasis occurs, it is often difficult if not impossible to treat."

Elijah felt as if he'd had the breath knocked out of him. "Oh," he said. He blinked rapidly at the tears that burned at his eyes. With all likelihood, had his mum not wanted to protect him, she would be alive right _now_.

An uncomfortable silence elapsed. Snape seemed to be struggling with something. "These are very recent developments, however, Mr. Douglas, and not all are privy to them."

"Yeah, alright," Elijah said, nodding absently, his chest still tight. "It's just -- my mum died, you know, a year ago. Do you think... would she have known about them if we'd stayed in contact with wizards? If she'd never left?"

Snape's eyes closed briefly. He sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Yes," his voice was so soft, Elijah scarcely heard the uttered word.

And then the man was gone, the door closing resolutely behind him.


	6. AN

Hey everyone!

Updates have been ridiculously slow in coming, I know. I've no excuse other than school and a general lack of motivation. However, a break from school, work, and writing has given me a much needed push to finish things up. The only problem being that I have far too many fics. I cannot possibly update them all with any regularity once school commences next week. So, what I have decided to do is take a vote. The two fics garnering the highest votes will be the ones updated weekly until they are finished. I also will be making thorough outlines (something I have not done in the past) for the other fics. I am not abandoning any fic, so you need not worry! :D I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and a lovely New Year.

_~ Koinaka_

Feel free to pm me with any questions you may have.


	7. Chapter 5

So, I don't think there's anything I can say that will excuse my ridiculous absence other than: I'm sorry! School and work and life got in the way. Plus, I've been completely unmotivated to write ANYTHING. Still, that's no excuse. Thankfully, I've decided to use NaNoWriMo as an excuse to get caught up. Now, I know that _technically_ we aren't to use works in progress, but really... I need all the help I can get writing again. So, here you go. It isn't very long, but hopefully it's fine just the same. Maybe you'll see updates in other things soon :D

An Ordinary Life 

By _Koinaka_

_Be not afraid of greatness:  
Some are born great,  
Some achieve greatness,  
And some have greatness thrust upon 'em_

Twelth Night, Act II, Sc. V

Chapter Five  
Making the Best of a Curious Situation

As immature as it may have been, Elijah had planned on playing the part of a sullen teenager and spend he entirety of the next day sulking in his room, but necessity drove him from his self-induced exile – well, necessity _and_ curiosity, if he were being completely honest with himself.

The necessity that drove him to search for the two men from before, Lupin in particular was that he would need to return home, however brief a visit it was, and retrieve his medication. The curiosity was that the fact that he was in an exclusively magical home had just managed to sink into his head. Hadn't he been dying to find out of there really was a magical world? Hadn't he and Andrew argued over this very thing before the end of the school year? Elijah hadn't any doubts then that the man in his dreams was real. Of course, he hadn't really expected to find him.

While he had hoped there was truly a world full of magic like in his dreams, he'd never thought he would actually find it. Hoped and dreamed, _yes_, but now he knew there was a magical world. More than that, he was a part of that world – a savior of that world if Mr. Dumbledore was telling the truth. So why was he suddenly so frightened? He'd never been frightened of the man in his dreams before, but then again, he hadn't known before that the man wanted to kill him either.

Elijah was so lost in his thoughts that he ran straight into a gangly looking boy with bright red hair and far too many freckles, knocking him to the floor.

"_Oh_!" he exclaimed as he helped the boy up. "Err, sorry about that. Didn't mean to knock you over, but I have a tendency to space out on occasion. My dad always says that if I kept my head out of the clouds and my feet firmly on the ground then I wouldn't be half as clumsy as I am." He gave a nervous little laugh when he had finished rambling on.

"No problem, mate," the boy said good-naturedly. "No harm no –" but the boy paused mid-sentence, his eyes widening when he finally took a good look at Elijah's face. "Blimey, you're _him_, aren't you?"

Elijah's brow furrowed in confusion. "Him who?" he asked.

"Harry Potter, of course!"

Before he could answer, the two boys were joined by Sirius and Lupin. Sirius looked startled to see Elijah up and about, but Lupin took in his appearance in stride.

"You're looking much better, Elijah. How are you feeling?"

The red-headed boy looked from Lupin to Elijah with a look of the utmost confusion on his face. "But I thought – " he muttered to himself.

"I'm feeling much better, thank you. Potions really do the trick, don't they?"

Lupin gave him a small smile. "That they do. We were just headed downstairs for breakfast. We were going to bring a plate up to you, but seeing as you're up and about, won't you join us?"

"Err, yes, I suppose. I am feeling a bit hungry," he said after a moment.

"Great! Shall we then?" He said, motioning for Elijah to follow.

Elijah cast a side-long glance at Sirius, who was staring at Elijah as if he might vanish before his very eyes, before turning back to Lupin. "Do you think I could talk to you… you know, _alone_… before we go downstairs?"

Sirius tried to hide the hurt look that fluttered across his face but was largely unsuccessful. "I'll just go ahead and tell Molly that H—_Elijah_ will be coming down after all. Why don't you come with me, Ron?"

The red-headed boy,Ron apparently, nodded slowly before following Sirius down the narrow windy staircase. Elijah could hear them muttering quietly as they went. When they had disappeared from sight, he turned back to Lupin.

"You wanted to speak with me?" Lupin asked kindly after Elijah remained silent for several seconds.

"I was just wondering… I know that Professor Dumbledore said it wasn't safe for me to return home alone, and I suppose that I'm alright with that, but… well, the thing is… if I'm going to stay here for at least a couple of days, I need to at least go home and get some of my things. Especially my medicine. I can't really go without that." Elijah was slightly out of breath when he finished.

"I don't see why we couldn't, as long as we take all of the proper precautions. If you would like, we could talk to Sirius after breakfast. I'm sure he wouldn't mind accompanying us." Lupin held up his hand when he saw Elijah's expression. "I know that Sirius may not be your favorite person at the moment, but I think you should give him a chance. This hasn't been easy for him, but he is truly only looking out for your safety. He's never quite gotten over the role he played in," he hesitated briefly, "James Potter's death."

Elijah frowned. "But I thought Lord Voldemort killed him?" he asked, confusion coloring his tone.

"He did. I'm terribly sorry, Elijah, but this really isn't my story to tell. I'm quite certain that Sirius would be more than happy to tell you anything you would like to know. Give him a chance."

"Yeah, alright. I guess I can do that." Elijah fiddled with the end of his shirt. He flushed hotly when his stomach gave a loud rumble.

Lupin chucked. "I agree. Come along, I'll introduce you to the others."

The others turned out to be a number of people, the majority of which had red hair and were related to the boy named Ron. Elijah assumed that Sirius had filled them in on who he really was because every so often someone would sneak a look at the lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead. This caused him to attempt to cover said scar with his naturally unruly hair as he made awkward small talk with the other teenagers in between bites of food.

"So, do you have a felly-phone?" Ron asked around a large mouth of food.

Hermione, the girl beside him whose name Elijah could only remember because it was the name of one of the characters in the play _A Winter's Tale _that he had covered in school the previous semester gave an exasperated sigh. "It isn't polite to talk with your mouth full, Ronald, and I think you mean telephone."

Ron nodded eagerly. "That's what I said, isn't it? A telephone!"

"Yes, there's a telephone in my aunt's flat, and there are loads of telephones at my school since we each have one in our rooms. Do wizards have telephones?" Elijah asked a bit surely although he felt fairly certainly that they did not as they didn't seem to have electricity.

Ron chortled. "Blimey, mate, why would we want to use felly-phones when we can have a chat using the Floo Network or through Owl Post?"

"Well, I, for one, would much rather use Muggle means of communication," Hermione said. "It's ever so efficient. Muggles are extremely clever, you know. With their technology, they can even send mail worldwide in a matter of minutes!"

"How do they do that?" asked Ginny, who was sitting across from Hermione.

"It's called electronic mail. My parents just bought this device called a personal computer, and they can use it to connect to the internet. They can send electronic mail to anyone in the world. It's really quite brilliant. They let me play with it a bit before I came here," Hermione said, her face was flushed with excitement.

"Are your parents Muggles, then?" Elijah asked curiously. While he still felt a bit uneasy around the four teenagers, he was quickly beginning to warm up to them. "Professor Dumbledore explained to me how sometimes magical children are born to non-magical parents like my mum. If magical ability is a hereditary trait passed on from parent to child, then shouldn't it be quite impossible that a magical child is born from non-magical parents?

Ron and Ginny exchanged a horrified look, but Hermione seemed very pleased by Elijah's question. "I have often asked myself that very question! You would think that there would be some sort of scientific basis for magic, but there simply isn't! It defies logic which is just mind-boggling to me."

Elijah's look turned pensive. "I don't mean to contradict you because I'm certain that you are more familiar with magic than I am since I've only just discovered that there was such a thing, but it's highly unlikely that there's no genetic proof of magic."

"But not impossible?" Hermione countered.

"Well, no," said Elijah slowly. "Nothing's impossible, but I doubt there is no proof. I'm guessing that scientists just write it off as a genetic defect, if they notice it at all. I'll ask my dad when he returns from Cambridge. He's a geneticist." He closed his mouth with a snap. He hadn't even thought about how his dad would take all of this. He was sure to think that Elijah had lost his mind.

It was only then that Elijah noticed that breakfast was over, and everyone was beginning to clear the table. Hermione seemed rather eager to continue their conversation, but when Lupin caught his eye and nodded towards Sirius, Elijah promised they would finish later and headed over to where the two men were chatting to a man with balding red hair.

"Elijah, this is Arthur Weasley. He's agreed to accompany us across the way to your flat," Lupin said.

"Simply marvelous to meet you," Mr. Weasley exclaimed. "I've only ever been in Muggle houses when on duty, so this will be a real treat for me!"

"Arthur works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office in the Ministry of Magic," Sirius put in helpfully at Elijah's confused look.

"So, do youwork for the Ministry, too?" Elijah asked as the two of them waited for Lupin and Weasley to check the outside and make sure there were no passing Muggles.

Sirius paled. "Not… as such. I'm in between positions at the moment."

"Oh."

Silence lapsed over the two of them until Lupin's head popped inside the door. "All's clear out here. Sirius'll transform, and then the four of us can go across the street.

Sirius, who had already transformed, gave a bark of approval and spun around in a circle several times. Elijah laughed and reached down to pet the dog before he realized exactly who it was he was petting. By the time he realized it, it was too late. It didn't seem like Sirius minded however as he yelped playfully before nudging Elijah in the direction of the door.

Outside it was a clear sunny morning with absolutely no one in sight in any direction. Lodged in between Lupin and Mr. Weasley, with Sirius leading the way, the four made their way across the street. The two wizards beside him were incredibly tense although they managed to walk the short distance to his home without any complications.

Smiling bashfully at Elijah, Lupin pulled a familiar set of keys out from his pocket and tossed them to him. He caught them easily and opened up the door. Sirius entered the room first and the sound of yowling cats could be heard followed by one half-bark and then by loud curses. When Sirius gave the all-clear, there were several very prominent scratch marks across his face.

"Sorry," Elijah muttered sheepishly. "I should have warned you. Auntie Elinor has loads of cats, and none of them are particularly friendly."

Sirius ran a thin, pale hand through his disheveled hair and laughed. "Not to worry, ol' Padfoot is nothing if not durable. Now, then, we shouldn't stay here long. No one's here, but I really don't want to chance it."

Elijah nodded. "Alright, I'll just run upstairs then. Do you want to come with me?" he asked after looking over to where Mr. Weasley and Lupin were having a lively conversation about the ingenuity of the telephone directory.

Sirius' face lit up. "Sure thing."

He'd scarcely unpacked since returning here, so gathering his belongings wasn't exactly an arduous task. He scooped the medicine off the counter top in his adjoining bathroom and into his satchel along with his extra sketchpad and his set of charcoals. When he finished, he noticed that Sirius was staring transfixed at a photograph of Elijah and his parents that was taken when he was twelve.

"Oh, that's my Mum and Dad, but I guess you already know them. My mum at least."

Sirius flinched at him calling Benjamin his dad. Elijah sighed. "I always thought that Benjamin was my dad. He _is_ my dad in every way that counts – I love him. Until last week, I didn't even know there really was such a person as James Potter. I don't know anything about him. Maybe…maybe you could tell me about him. If you wouldn't mind, that is," he finished quickly. While he still wasn't happy about being forcibly removed from his home, he could see that Sirius really did care for him. He owed it to both of them to give the man another chance.

He was rewarded by a broad smile. "'Course I'll tell you about James. We should probably head back now though. The headmaster and Snape are likely to turn up at some point, and they would be rather put out if they find us missing."


End file.
